The simplicity and earnestness of the old man's tones were appreciated by all, and the tremendous cheer, which almost terrified Phyllis, was a fit assent to the hearty good wishes of the old farmer.
'Now comes the trial!' whispered Claude to Lilias, after he had vehemently contributed his proportion to the noise. Lilias saw that his colour had risen, as much as if he had to make a speech himself, and he earnestly examined the coronet on his fork, while every other eye was fixed on the Marquis. Eloquence was not to be expected; but, at least, Lord Rotherwood spoke clearly and distinctly.
'My friends,' said he, 'you must not expect much of a speech from me; I can only thank you for your kindness, say how glad I am to see you here, and tell you of my earnest desire that I may not prove myself unworthy to be compared with my forefathers.' Here was a pause. Claude's hand shook, and Lily saw how anxious he was, but in another moment the Marquis went on smoothly. 'Now, I must ask you to drink the health of a gentleman who has done his utmost to compensate for the loss which we sustained nine years ago, and to whom I owe any good intentions which I may bring to the management of this property. I beg leave to propose the health of my uncle, Mr. Mohun, of Beechcroft.'
Claude was much surprised, for his cousin had never given him a hint of his intention. It was a moment of great delight to all the young Mohuns when the cheer rose as loud and hearty as for the young lord himself, and Phyllis smiled, and wondered, when she saw her papa rise to make answer. He said that he could not attempt to answer Lord Rotherwood, as he had not heard what he said, but that he was much gratified by his having thought of him on this occasion, and by the goodwill which all had expressed. This was the last speech that was interesting; Lady Rotherwood's health and a few more toasts followed, and the party then left the tent for the lawn, where the cool air was most refreshing, and the last beams of the evening sun were lighting the tops of the trees.
The dancing was now to begin, and this was the time for Claude to be useful. He had spent so much time at home, and had accompanied his father so often in his rides, that he knew every one, and he was inclined to make every exertion in the cause of his cousin, and on this occasion seemed to have laid aside his indolence and disinclination to speak to strangers.
Lady Florence was also indefatigable, darting about, with a wonderful perception who everybody was, and with whom each would like to dance. She seized upon little Devereux Aylmer for her own partner before any one else had time to ask her, and carried him about the lawn, hunting up and pairing other shy people.
'Why, Reginald, what are you about? You can manage a country-dance. Make haste; where is your partner?'
'I meant to dance with Miss Weston,' said Reginald, piteously.
'Miss Weston? Here she is.'
'That is only Marianne,' said Reginald.
'Oh! Miss Weston is dancing with William. Marianne, will you accept my apologies for this discourteous cousin of mine? I am perfectly horror-struck. There, Redgie, take her with a good grace; you will never have a better partner.'
Marianne was only too glad to have Reginald presented to her, ungracious as he was, but the poor little couple met with numerous disasters. They neither of them knew the way through a country-dance, and were almost run over every time they went down the middle; Reginald's heels were very inconvenient to his neighbours; so much so, that once Claude thought it expedient to admonish him, that dancing was not merely an elegant name for football without a ball. Every now and then some of their friends gave them a hasty intimation that they were all wrong, but that they knew already but too well. At last, just when Marianne had turned scarlet with vexation, and Reginald was growing so desperate that he had thoughts of running a way, the dance came to an end, and Reginald, with very scanty politeness to his partner, rushed away to her sister, saying, in rather a reproachful tone, 'Miss Weston, you promised to dance with me.'
'I have not forgotten my promise,' said Alethea, smiling.
At the same moment Claude hurried up, saying, 'William, I want a partner for Miss Wilkins, of the Wold Farm. Miss Wilkins, let me introduce Captain Mohun.'
'You see I have made the Captain available,' said Claude, presently after meeting Lord Rotherwood, as he speeded across the lawn.
'Have you? I did not think him fair game,' said the Marquis. 'Where is your heroine, Claude? I have not seen her dancing.'
'What heroine? What do you mean?'
'Honest Phyl, of course. Did you think I meant Miss Weston?'
'With Eleanor, somewhere. Is the next dance a quadrille?'
Lord Rotherwood ran up the bank to the terraced walks, where the undancing part of the company sat or walked about. Soon he spied Phyllis standing by Eleanor, looking rather wearied. 'Phyllis, can you dance a quadrille?'
Phyllis opened her eyes, and Eleanor desired her to answer.
'Come, Phyllis, let me see what M. Le Roi has done for you.'
He led her away, wondering greatly, and thinking how very good-natured Cousin Rotherwood was.
Emily was much surprised to find Phyllis her vis à vis. Emily was very generally known and liked, and had no lack of grand partners, but she would have liked to dance with the Marquis. When the quadrille was over, she was glad to put herself in his way, by coming up to take charge of Phyllis.
'Well done, Phyl,' said he; 'no mistakes. You must have another dance. Whom shall we find for you?'
'Oh! Rotherwood,' said Emily, 'you cannot think how you gratified us all with your speech.'
'Ah! I always set my heart on saying something of the kind; but I wished I could have dared to add the bride's health.'
'The bride!'
'Do not pretend to have no eyes,' said Lord Rotherwood, with a significant glance, which directed Emily's eyes to the terrace, where Mr. Mohun and Alethea were walking together in eager conversation.
Emily was ready to sink into the earth. Jane's surmises, and the mysterious words of her father, left her no further doubt. At this moment some one asked her to dance, and scarcely knowing what she did or said, she walked to her place. Lord Rotherwood now found a partner for Phyllis, and a farmer's daughter for himself.
This dance over, Phyllis's partner did not well know how to dispose of her, and she grew rather frightened on finding that none of her sisters were in sight. At last she perceived Reginald standing on the bank, and made her escape to him.
'Redgie, did you see who I have been dancing with? Cousin Rotherwood and Claude's grand Oxford friend-Mr. Travers.'
'It is all nonsense,' said Reginald. 'Come out of this mob of people.'
'But where is Eleanor?'
'Somewhere in the midst. They are all absurd together.'
'What is the matter, Redgie?' asked Phyllis, unable to account for this extraordinary fit of misanthropy.
'Papa and William both driving me about like a dog,' said Reginald; 'first I danced with Miss Weston-then she saw that woman-that Miss Aylmer-shook hands-talked-and then nothing would serve her but to find papa. As soon as the Baron sees me he cries out, "Why are not you dancing, Redgie? We do not want you!" Up and down they walk, ever so long, and presently papa turns off, and begins talking to Miss Aylmer. Then, of course, I went back to Miss Weston, but then up comes William, as savage as one of his Canadian bears; he orders me off too, and so here I am! I am sure I am not going to ask any one else to dance. Come and walk with me in peace, Phyl. Do you see them?-Miss Weston and Marianne under that tulip-tree, and the Captain helping them to ice.'